Utah!

You take land so rare, so fierce
and make it resound with the retorts of your guns,
the thickness of your gospel,
the lowing of cattle sounds to the peaks,
while your highways hum with the speed of a false haste,
cars and trucks rushing to another destination.

This landscape has been too much,
these red bluffs, vast vacant shimmering salt flat lakes
canyons and mesas out of the plains
unbreachable treasuries of earth
their question resounds unanswered

Too much for Joseph Smith, his trail of obedient wagons,
too much for the 15 living prophets
which have followed in an unbroken line of old white men
down to Gordon Hinckley whose flock numbers 13 million
freedom loving souls waiting for heaven.

I see it in your eyes, your retreat to dull certainty,
your capital, its empty core, vacant streets
for what would you do in such a place?
the strip malls, the chains hum with activity,
your televisions pulse while you
pump the hollow music of your organs
through the temples of the church
and the congregation listens mutely,
the dream of the end
echoing happily in their heads
jumping through these days,
the fiery hills left to the lowing cattle.

Heaven, the destination loudly proclaimed
an eternal bliss of filial activity
resounding with the shouts and echoes of familiarity.